


Fractals

by satelliteinasupernova



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Meet-Cute, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:08:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24705838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satelliteinasupernova/pseuds/satelliteinasupernova
Summary: “Fractal marks. Everyone knows people born with those are destined for greatness,” his dad had liked to say. In the books Jughead ate up during his youth, borrowed in stacks from the library, fractal marks were always tied to great romances.His mom’s perspective back then had been very different. With a sharp look she would say, “That whole soulmate thing is just another way to limit your choices in life. Don’t be fooled by it, Jughead.”Jughead had still been in elementary school when fractal technology was in its first stages of development. With these advancements anyone can have a fractal mark, they advertised. Everyone would have a means of finding their soulmate. Their perfect match in every way.------a soulmate au
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Comments: 50
Kudos: 96
Collections: 7th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees





	Fractals

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to kayromantic and soyforramen for the beta and support!
> 
> I told myself that if I ever thought of a soulmate au concept that interested me I'd write it. So here we go, a soulmate au about being a millennial.

“Hey, Jug, come check this out for me,” Moose said without looking up from his laptop. 

Jughead slid down from his bunk bed and crossed the room so he could take a look over Moose’s shoulder. He wasn’t surprised by what was on the computer screen.

Moose lifted his wrist up so that it was aligned with the image displayed on the screen: a picture of a wrist held out in front of the camera. Both wrists had distinct marks just under the joint with a fractal design etched like a tattoo. “It’s pretty close don’t you think?”

Jughead barely gave the screen a glance. “Why are you even on fractal mark forums, Moose? You have a girlfriend.”

Moose swiveled around in his desk chair to face him. “Yeah, but what if my soulmate is out there? It’d be a shame to not even look, right?”

Jughead gave a beleaguered sigh.

Before Jughead had been born, back when his parents were growing up, fractal marks had been rare, marked from birth on the bodies of one in a hundred thousand babies. They were a natural phenomenon, birthmarks that bloomed across the skin in unique fractal shapes. To be born with one was a sign that somewhere out in the world was an individual who matched you perfectly, who had the same exact design at the same exact position on their body. Gifted with a match from birth.

“Fractal marks. Everyone knows people born with those are destined for greatness,” his dad had liked to say. In the books Jughead ate up during his youth, borrowed in stacks from the library, fractal marks were always tied to great romances.

His mom’s perspective back then had been very different. With a sharp look she would say, “That whole soulmate thing is just another way to limit your choices in life. Don’t be fooled by it, Jughead.”

Jughead had still been in elementary school when fractal technology was in its first stages of development. With these advancements _anyone can have a fractal mark_ , they advertised. _Everyone would have a means of finding their soulmate. Their perfect match in every way._

In practice, marks made from fractal technology were the same as natural born birthmarks. They were created by stimulating a reaction under the skin; one that occurred naturally in fractal birthmarks. A technologically created fractal mark was easy to spot. Unlike birthmarks, which could form anywhere on the body to prevent distortion, manufactured marks were always developed on the wrist. It made them easy to see, easy to compare, and always a topic of conversation.

Ten years later and it seemed that all that mass produced fractal marks had provided was a significant rise in divorce rates. Even supposed happily married couples had let their curiosities get the best of them, wanting the ultimate proof that they had found the _right_ person to spend their life with. A vast majority had been sorely disappointed by what they found. Then, with new fervor, they’d immediately turned around and gotten their kids branded, hoping to give their children an early shot at finding that treasured soulmate.

Jughead scratched absently at his arm as he glanced away from the image on Moose's computer, and down at Moose's wrist. “It’s similar, but it’s not the same.” he said. “If it was the same, I think you’d know.”

“Yeah,” Moose sighed. “Yeah.”

  
  


The final month of Jughead’s junior year of college went by in a blur. Weeks filled with final paper reviews, late night exam cramming, and loud dorm parties in the lobby down the hall. Before he knew it, Jughead was already packing up for the summer and preparing for the drive back to Riverdale.

Moose pulled him into a tight bear hug once all of Jughead’s things were packed into the old, rusty sedan he'd been driving since high school. Stacks of clothes, books, and cheap, dismantled furniture filled the back seat up to the point of blocking most of the rear window.

“Stay in touch this summer, man,” Moose said warmly. _Keeping touch_ wasn’t exactly Jughead’s strong suit, but he promised to give it a shot.

  
  


Over the eight hour drive home, Jughead let his mind wander, picking at the final critique from his creative writing class. “Great work,” his professor had typed out at the bottom of his submission. “It’s been a pleasure to watch your progress over the past semester. Your final story exemplified your detailed prose and sharp, biting criticism.”

“However, don’t think I haven’t noticed your preference for historical settings,” she’d added. “I am curious how you would approach a modern setting with your voice. That is something that I would like to see from you in the coming year.”

His focus had always been unusual compared to his peers who tended to write about modern life; their personal experiences, growing pains, the ache and joy of youth. Whether relationships were the focus of their work or not, Jughead had seen a pattern of ennui surrounding romance present in all of their writing. In heavy, overwrought prose, they detailed the experience of messy entanglements with people who were definitely not their soulmate, and the weight that knowledge put on each relationship. For those who had been connected with their match early, their work expressed a fundamental disappointment, a bitterness in the many ways the person they were tied to failed to be exactly what they wanted or needed. This sentiment wasn’t just common with his peers, but also surrounded him in magazine articles, best selling novels, and every type of anecdote.

Like many of the writers he admired, Jughead drew from his own experiences, but he preferred to imagine them taking place in a different world, a different time. When it came down to it, he just… didn’t write about soulmates at all. He avoided writing much about romance, generally. He had neither the personal experience nor the aspirations to fuel it. His feelings about love were a knotted tangled mess. He had no clarity, nothing useful to say on the subject, and he didn’t want to be one of a million voices speaking on disappointments and loneliness with nothing poignant to add except for his own self-conceit. When he tried, he found himself lost in thought experiments, arguing about the validity of the concept of soulmates at all, bitter, listless opinions with no proof to back them up. The most he could manage was to lecture to people about something that he had never experienced.

Because no matter how critical he was, no matter the flaws he saw so evident in people's pursuit of a perfect match, he couldn't ignore the part of himself that still secretly longed for it too.

By the time Jughead made it to Riverdale, his mind had gone around in circles and back again to the point that he felt weary of it.

His hometown was a comforting distraction, the familiar roads that he had known all of his life. Riverdale had always been a sleepy town. Many of the homes and businesses downtown had been around for generations. Change in Riverdale almost always came slowly. Any change that forced its way in hit like a shockwave, leaving unrest and disarray in its wake.

When he drove up to the trailer park where he’d grown up, Jughead wasn’t surprised to see that the random building supplies FP had brought home from work were still stacked up exactly where they had been over Christmas, with a few new weather worn planks stocked next to a tall pile of bricks. Supplies that had been gathered to build an addition to the small trailer, but instead just continue to gather rot and growth.

As Jughead was pulling a gym bag of clothes out of the intricate puzzle of objects in the back seat, JB leapt down the stairs to greet him, pulling him into an excited hug. She was tall now, almost as tall as he was, gangly and with all the energy to match. Somewhere along the way she’d gained an interest in sports, and she now catered her teenage image to a tight-rope walk balance between sporty and punk. Jughead had learned not to question it, and by all accounts it seemed to work for her. Unlike Jughead, who during high school had at most four friends, Jellybean was friends with practically every student at Riverdale High. She was, strangely enough, one of the _cool_ kids.

When JB reached out to help him unload the car, he stopped her. “I’m just going to bring my clothes in, we don’t have anywhere to put most of this stuff.” 

When she looked at the mess of his car with a raised eyebrow, he added “Plus, since Dad said we’re on our own for dinner anyway, Let’s head to Pop’s.”

It never really felt like Jughead was officially back home until he visited Pop’s Chock’lit Shoppe. As soon as he stepped in the door, his senses were hit with the comforting scent of grease, followed by a warm welcome from Pop himself.

As Jughead slid into what he considered his _regular_ booth, he felt the tension from the drive finally ease off his joints. JB, on the other hand, had been mostly quiet on the walk over, her face tight, distracted by an unspoken thought.

Jughead gave her time, waiting for her to speak up on her own, but she remained quiet until their food arrived. Two cheeseburgers for him, a reuben for her. He had just taken a large bite of his first burger when JB finally spoke. “Dad said he’d pay for me to get my fractal mark for my 16th birthday.”

Jughead swallowed suddenly, and had to cough to clear his throat. He didn’t answer until he’d taken a long sip of his strawberry shake. When he did, his tone came out clipped. “That’s a lot of money, JB. You could use that to save up for a car.”

“I’ve been considering that too.” She dipped a fry in ketchup, but made no move to eat it, bobbing it against her plate instead. “It’s just- Dad thinks...,” she paused, wincing uncomfortably.

“What does he think?”

She met his eyes briefly, then with a small shrug said, “He thinks… that maybe the reason you never really got along with kids your age… was because you didn’t go through getting a mark with them and everything.”

Jughead let out a long breath. “Trust me, it wasn’t the mark.” 

JB didn’t look convinced.

With a sigh, Jughead put his burger back down on his plate. “You don’t-” he trailed off, realizing mid-sentence that he wasn’t sure how he wanted to phrase his thought. “You don’t have to do this to prove Mom wrong or anything, you know.”

JB’s expression darkened, veering towards anger. Their mother was always a touchy subject. Even more so after she’d left without a word back when Jughead had been JB’s age.

“Have you talked to her recently?” JB asked tentatively.

“With Mom?” Jughead gave a short laugh. “Why would I?”

JB worked the corners of her mouth thoughtfully before speaking, “She called home last month. Told me she went and got her fractal mark done.”

For one held moment, Jughead just stared at his sister, processing what she had said. And then he laughed. There was no humor in his voice, the laugh came out as a throaty, sharp bark that echoed through the diner. Several people glanced his way curiously, and he clamped his mouth shut and hunched down into his seat.

“That’s-” he said when the attention from the crowd had moved away from him. “That’s a laugh.”

“I’m sorry, Jug,” JB said in a rush. She looked stricken, her cheeks growing red and tears building up in her eyes. “I got real mad at her, but she just said that it was her choice to make, and she’d decided that now was the right time for her. I don’t think she really got why I was mad at all-”

Jughead shook his head and reached across the table to put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, JB. _I’m_ okay,” he insisted.

“Are you?” she asked, voice wavering.

He smiled, gripping her shoulder affectionately. “Yes. And if you decide that getting your fractal mark is something that you want, then I support you in that choice.”

“Well… “ JB continued, looking up at him expectantly. “The fractal mark center in town makes you go through this.. consultation thing. I thought... maybe you could come with me?”

It felt very deliberate, that she was asking _him_ to go with her instead of their dad. With some embarrassment, he realized that his opinion was important to her. “Yeah, JB,” he said with a brief, awkward smile. “Of course.”

  
  
  


When Jughead was in high school, there had been no fractal centers in Riverdale. To get one done, you’d need to drive two hours out to the nearest major city. Kids would come into school on Monday morning with a bandage over their wrist, and the whole class would gather around to try to peek at the mark through the edges of the bandage cloth.

Going with JB to the Riverdale center now was a very different experience than he'd always imagined. The center had the sleek square design of a clinic, large windows surrounding the lobby. Brand new. Clean. It was one of the newest buildings in Riverdale. It had taken over the corner that had once, many years ago now, housed an old movie rental joint. It had closed shop before Jughead had even hit working age, or he might have found himself working there over the summers instead of the Bijou, the downtown movie theater.

As they stepped inside, JB squirmed uncomfortably; her hands hovered awkwardly at her sides. When they were noticed by a young woman at the front desk, JB crossed her arms around her chest, and glanced up at Jughead helplessly.

The lobby was nearly empty. Except for one man leaning his head against the window, seemingly napping as he waited, there were no one else in the room. The young woman was alone at the front desk, though Jughead could make out some movement from her co-workers in the office behind the desk.

As they approached, she gave them a bright smile. She wore a crisp collared shirt, with her hair tied in a high blonde ponytail. “How can I help you?”

Once again, JB turned to Jughead, uncharacteristically shy. With a sigh, he turned to the young woman. “My sister is here about getting a fractal mark. There was some kind of… interview?” Beside him JB tightened her lips to a tight line, watching with wide eyes and nodded along.

“Oh!” the woman said, smile unwavering. She eyed JB, taking a second to take her in. As she looked between the two of them, her ponytail bounced against her neck. Just under her collar was a name tag, reading _Betty_ in a bright, bubbled font. When she spoke, her voice was sugary sweet. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. We just want to get to know you and make sure you’re aware of your options.”

She sounded like she could be the spokesperson in a commercial campaign, but her friendly demeanor had the desired effect on Jellybean, who took a few steps toward the counter. 

“What do I do?” JB asked, already sounding more like herself.

Betty responded with a tender smile that wrinkled her nose and lit up her eyes. With a quick motion, she placed a small sheet of paper in front of JB. “First, fill this out for me, and we’ll get someone to sit down with you.” She handed JB a pink plastic pen with a giant fake flower tied to the top end. The petals flopped around as JB started to fill out her name, age, and relevant info.

While they were waiting for JB to fill out the form, Betty glanced up at Jughead, catching him watching her. As soon as their eyes met, Jughead turned away on instinct, for cover, he feigned an interest in the board of advertisements and flyers on the wall next to the desk.

He may have come for JB’s sake, but his natural instinct at a place like this was to make himself disappear into the background. He didn’t want any attention; he didn’t want any questions thrown his way.

He could feel anxiety gripping at his chest. He took a long, controlled breath, willing himself to get a grip.

“Here you go,” JB chimed, twirling the form back around toward Betty.

“Thank you, JB,” she said with one smooth glance down at the page for JB’s name. “I’ll sign you in, and someone will be with you in a moment!” The pink pen was already in her hand as she prepared a document next to her on the desk.

As soon as JB realized that she would be dealing with someone new, her shoulder’s tensed. She glanced up past the desk where someone just out of sight was making photocopies. “Do you know...who I’ll be talking to?”

To her credit, Betty didn’t even so much as blink. “Well,” she said, reaching one hand over for a clipboard of papers. “I can help you! Just give me… one sec…” 

She angled herself to lean toward the back office, flagging down one of her coworkers. They quickly traded places, and Betty stood up and walked around to the front of the desk. 

“Follow me!” she said cheerfully as she led them down to a hallway of office doors. When she reached one of the unused offices, Betty twirled to face them, and with her back to the door, pushed it open to let them in.

Inside the room was bland. No exterior windows with a view outside, the four walls only broken up by a window facing the hallway, blinds obscured the view of the rest of the building. There was just an empty desk with a few scattered chairs surrounding it.

Betty motioned an arm out for them to sit, smoothing her skirt with one hand as she sat behind the desk.

Jughead let JB move forward, and took a place standing against the wall with his arms crossed, where he would be separate from the discussion, but a presence if JB needed it. 

He wasn’t sure what to expect from this _consultation_ , but he wanted JB to have the chance to make her own choices. He suspected Betty would use all the tricks and tools of a pro salesperson. He readied himself to cut her off if she got too carried away and started pushing JB to a decision.

Even if JB wanted to get her mark, that didn’t mean she had to be indoctrinated into accepting marketing jargon from the people that made money off of it. He'd heard people parroting back sale pitches about fractal marks more than he could count.

“So.” Betty placed her clipboard down on the table and started to spread some sheets out across the table. “I don’t want you to be nervous,” she told JB. “This isn’t a test. This is just a chance for you to ask any questions you might have. We want you to be informed in your decision, I know there is a lot of misinformation about fractal marks.” 

At her words, JB gave an audible sigh of relief. At her sign of ease, Jughead felt himself follow suit, the tension leaving his shoulders. Betty only smiled. “So first, how about you start by telling me why you’re here.”

“I’m turning 16 this month,” JB answered plainly. “Isn’t that when you’re supposed to get your mark?”

Betty’s lips pursed. “It’s pretty common,” she agreed. “But only because that’s the age when you don’t need an adult to give consent. That doesn't mean it's the age when you're _supposed_ to get it.”

It was an answer Jughead hadn't expected from her. 

JB leaned forward, her elbows on the desk. “Does that mean you think it’s too early for me?”

Betty chuckled. “I’m saying that it’s your decision. I think the first thing you should ask yourself is why you are thinking about getting one. Is it because your peers are getting them? Is it because you think you should? Is it because you want to know if you have a match?”

“A lot of people come in assuming that they have to get one,” she added, “but of course, that’s not true.” 

For just the briefest moment, her eyes flickered over to Jughead. He realized then that without him noticing, she had already seen that his wrists were bare. He uncrossed and crossed his arms again uncomfortably as she focused again on JB.

“If you do decide that you want your mark, we have services to help you find a potential match.” Betty pursed her lips before she continued, “There haven’t been officially published percentages on matching rates by the servicing companies, but the general consensus among academic studies is that it’s at around 45 percent.”

“Really?” JB said with surprise. “That’s pretty low.”

“Not a great business pitch. I’m surprised you’re actually allowed to tell us that,” Jughead said, inserting himself into the conversation despite himself.

Betty gave him a wry look. “Well, I won’t tell if you won’t tell.”

"Is it true that not everyone has a match out there?" JB continued, her eyes bright with curiosity.

"Honestly? It's still too early to say," Betty said thoughtfully. "There are too many extenuating circumstances, especially since the technology has only been in public use for the past ten years. Between people who have decided to stay in their existing relationships, and early botched second-market fractal marks, there are several uncontrollable factors that keep the rate low. The rate is much higher for young adults under 30, but even then there are other factors at play."

Betty’s gazed past them, unfocused in thought. She rested a finger against her chin as she spoke. “According to the data that we currently have, there are social conditions that can have a huge impact on whether people find a match. Income disparity for one, low income areas have much lower percentages of people who get fractal marks because of the expense involved. That alone leaves a wide gap of potential matches that we have no data for.”

"So, what you're saying is that fractal marks are a privilege for the wealthy," Jughead said, eyeing her, for the first time focusing past her sweet voice and all-business demeanor. He wasn't sure if she annoyed him or intrigued him, but he'd rarely heard anyone talk like this about fractal marks outside of self-published thinkpieces.

Betty opened her mouth as if to respond, but then shut it again, her eyebrows creased in thought. When she started to speak again, it was much more deliberate. "Maybe. If you do consider them a privilege- a clear net positive- then yes. Personally, I am of the opinion that we don't know enough about the social dynamics of potential fractal matches to truly make that kind of blank statement."

"I'm sorry," Jughead said, taking a step forward, an irrepressible grin growing across his face. "Did you just say you didn't think fractal marks were a good thing? I'm surprised they let you work here."

"I didn't say that," Betty said with a huff. Defensively, she put her palms up on the table. "I'm just saying that before fractal marks could be technologically generated, we just accepted soulmates as fact, and now we have much more data..."

But Jughead had stopped hearing her argument as soon as her wrists came clearly into view for the first time. There was no fractal mark there. Jughead saw JB notice only seconds after he did. Her eyes whipped over to him, just the barest look passing between them before she turned back around.

"...Over the course of the next generation, we'll have a much better grasp of the potential net positive of fractal marks..." Betty stopped speaking when she noticed that both JB and Jughead were openly staring at her. Belatedly, she glanced down at her hands, and without comment, moved them to her lap underneath the desk.

“Sorry,” she said, her cheeks growing pink. “This isn’t what you came here to talk about.” Course correcting, she turned to JB, "So, why have you been thinking about getting your mark. Really?”

JB was quiet, thoughtful for a moment, “I don’t know. I’m one of the oldest kids in my class, and since most of us are about to turn sixteen it gets talked about a lot.”

“Do you think your friends will all get them this year?”

“Yeah."

After a thoughtful pause, Betty spoke again,“This is what I’ll say, then. You told me that you thought you were supposed to get your mark, but maybe your friends are feeling the same way. It might feel lonely to be the only one in your class not to get one, and I understand that. But if you aren’t feeling ready for it, maybe there are others your age who are feeling the same way. Why don’t you try talking to your friends about it?”

“Oh,” said JB, a bit thrown. “I guess we’ve never really talked about it like that. About not getting it. Together.”

“It’s a lot of pressure to be one of the only kids without one. But if you aren’t the only one deciding not to get it, it may not feel so lonely. It might feel more like a choice.”

Jughead could see from the stiffness in her shoulders that JB was itching to look back at him for affirmation, but she resolutely straightened her posture instead.

“Okay,” JB responded. “I like that. Can I think about it?”

“Of course,” Betty said with a smile. “And if you have more questions you can always come talk to me again. Just make sure it’s your decision, alright?”

Jughead felt like he had even more questions than he had started with, but JB seemed appeased, so he let his questions go. He hadn’t come to have a debate about the morality and disparity surrounding fractal marks.

As Betty led them out of the office, she handed JB a stack of pamphlets and a business card with contact info. "I'm glad you stopped by," she told JB with a smile. "I remember what it was like at your age."

Jughead couldn't help wondering if her experience had been anything at all like his.

"Thank you," JB said, and with a whisper added, “I'm sorry about Jughead."

At hearing his name, Betty glanced up at him, but instead of confusion, or worse, amusement at the sound of it, a dawning recognition lit up her face. It looked like she wanted to say something to him, but quickly thought better of it and turned back to JB. "There's nothing to apologize for. I hope it helped."

As Jughead let JB lead the way out, Betty called out to him. "Jughead." When he turned to look at her, she had an oddly contemplative look on her face. "I’ll see you around...maybe?”

If Jughead didn’t know any better, he might have thought it was a line. It wasn’t until later in the week that he learned what Betty had meant.

  
  
  


Archie had already started back at work at his dad's construction company by the time Jughead got back from school, so they'd only had the chance to catch each other a few times, and briefly, over the week. It was late in the night when Jughead got an unprompted text from him:

**Friday at the bar downtown! Everyone’s going to be there, so you have to come.**

Strictly speaking, not everyone in their grade was twenty-one yet, but alcohol restrictions were a bit lax in a town where everyone knew your parents. Still, a night at the downtown bar was not Jughead's first choice for a get-together. With a sigh, he responded, **I have to?**

Seconds later the response came through, **Ronnie says even if we have to carry you.**

Jughead knew better than to argue the point once Veronica got herself involved. **Tell her to cool it.** he answered **I’ll be there.**

The bar downtown was on the bottom floor of the Five Seasons, in the very small part of downtown that pretended to be more cosmopolitan than the rest of Riverdale. Jughead had only been a few times, the last had been for a post graduation celebration with much of the same people.

As soon as he walked in the door, he could see a gathering of familiar faces where several tables had been grouped together in a line. 

The first one to notice him was Reggie Mantle, who put a hand up in the air in greeting. ““Hey there, J-ster!” as always dedicated to calling him by as little of his name as possible. 

This alerted Archie to his arrival; he turned away from a conversation to wave Jughead over. It was only as Jughead awkwardly pulled an empty chair catty-corner to Archie's that he realized that the person Archie had been talking to was none other than the Fractal Center employee herself, Betty. 

She didn’t seem at all surprised to see him, and smiled knowingly. “Hello again, Jughead."

Before Jughead could ask, Archie hopped in with an explanation. “Betty’s living next door to me! She’s staying with her dad over the summer.”

“Uh-huh.” Jughead said, with little else to add.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Betty said. Immediately, he wanted to ask _what_ exactly had been said about him, but felt a bit unnerved by how much he cared.

Veronica slid into a chair on the other side of Archie with a martini glass in hand. “Oh good,” she said with a nod in his direction. “You’re here. I thought I would have to send the muscle." She made a motion to Reggie, who was standing a few chairs down, leaning forward against Dilton's shoulder while in conversation with Josie and Val across the table.

“I’m sure the party would have gone off just fine without me,” he said with a roll of his eyes. Betty said nothing, but she was watching the interaction with open interest.

Veronica and Archie seemed to have taken a quick liking to Betty, and pulled her into other conversations, explaining the context for each stroll down memory lane. The topic moved between talk about school, how their semester had gone, what their plans were for their senior year of college. It turned out that Betty was their age, had ditched her mother in sunny California to spend the summer in Riverdale while taking the job at the Fractal Center for summer work.

Jughead wasn't surprised when it didn’t take long for the conversation to slide back into fractal mark territory. Betty leaned toward Archie to speak over him to Veronica. “So you two met in high school, then?”

“M-hm,” Veronica answered, her lips still on her glass. “We actually met on my first day in Riverdale, after just moving down from the big city,” she explained. “Before I’d even looked at his wrist, I knew that this beautiful Adonis with sculpted abs was mine.” Veronica draped an arm elegantly over Archie’s shoulders, as he turned to her with a warm grin.

What they didn’t mention to Betty was all the false starts they’d had on the way. It turned out that meeting your _match_ when you were in high school, when you weren’t even sure of who you were and what you wanted led to much less than a breezy fairy tale romance. As Archie’s best friend, Jughead had been witness to the long journey it had taken for them to reach the solid relationship they were in now.

But, he couldn't argue that they were good together.

"Reggie found his match on a fractal forum, she wasn't even living in the country at the time." Josie mused with a sly grin.

"We're in an open relationship," Reggie said with a wink in Betty's direction. Jughead felt his stomach knot uncomfortably, but Betty just rolled her eyes.

"You all got yours in high school right?" Betty asked. "It was the same in my class."

The group nodded in unison. Kevin, who had come even later than Jughead, slid smoothly into the conversation, clearly needing no introduction. "It was the hot new trend. Only a few of us had matches in town though. And of course," this time, Kevin turned to Jughead. "Jughead remains the last one to hold the line."

"Thanks," he said, feeling his lips tighten into a frown.

"We've badgered him about this enough," said Veronica with a wave of her hand. "As far as we know Jughead is the last sane person in all of Riverdale. He will not be moved by trends of any kind."

With that, the discussion of marks trailed off into other topics, the Pussycats’ budding music career, Reggie's college exploits. As the conversation travelled to the other end of the table, Jughead found himself catching Betty's gaze, just the two of them alone in the moment.

Despite himself, he’d thought about her a lot after their initial meeting. He’d been on edge at the time, in that building it felt like she’d had the upper hand, but after his anxieties had worn off, he’d found himself wishing he’d taken the chance to talk to her more. To ask her the questions that had been plaguing him for years, that no one else felt as comfortable asking.

 _Do you think fractal marks are just a broken promise too? Is there really such a thing as a soulmate? Or is it something we just want to_ **_believe_ ** _is true?_

"Thanks again," he said, instead. "For meeting with JB. I think it really helped, talking to you."

Betty smiled immediately, a smile born of relief more than happiness. "I'm glad. I've been thinking about her a lot."

She bit at her lip, looking unsure. She seemed much smaller than she had seemed when she sat across them in her office. Instead of a company voice, she looked like what she really was, one of his peers. 

“I realized afterwards that I didn’t really talk to her about the aspects that I wanted to. We got talking about broader subjects, when what I really wanted to do was make it clear to her that she didn’t need a fractal mark or a soulmate to be happy. That it’s only one possibility for her.”

“No,” he said, his voice soft, “She got that. I think talking to you opened up that possibility for her.”

“Good," she said, with a small, pleased smile.

He glanced at her wrist, her fingers resting on the rim of her wine glass. She was dressed casually this time, a sleeveless shirt, the fabric a blend of summer pinks and yellows. Her hair was down too, one strand was loose over her shoulder, soft curls bouncing against her neck as she spoke.

“I think it helped a lot,” he admitted, “to meet someone else who didn’t have a mark.”

This time when Betty looked up at him, there was a flash of guilt evident on her face. She grimaced slightly, and then very deliberately, she turned the inside of her arm to face him. “I’m sorry if I misled her on that," she explained with a sigh, " I try not to bring up my circumstance if I can help it, it tends to divert the conversation.” Because on the inside of her arm, just under the bend of her elbow was a natural birthmark. A birth given fractal mark. At the sight of it, Jughead felt his insides drop like an anchor falling into the depths of the cold ocean.

A burst of laughter came from the conversation next to them, and Archie prodded Betty in the arm, pulling her gaze away from him. His friends were responding to something Archie had said, another round of laughter, but Jughead couldn’t hear it over the sound of blood rushing in his ears.

When Betty glanced back his way briefly, almost shyly, he swallowed painfully. His mouth was dry. He glanced away quickly, pretending to give his full attention to his old classmates. Pretending there wasn’t a storm raging inside him.


End file.
